


Date Nights, In Five Acts

by DayenuRose



Series: Untangling the Threads [2]
Category: Batgirl (Comics), Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Alfred Pennyworth - Freeform, Angst, Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson - Freeform, Blüdhaven, Bruce Wayne - Freeform, Cassandra Cain - Freeform, Damian Wayne - Freeform, Date Night, Double Date, Fire, Flirting, Game Night, Henchmen, Ice Cream, Jason Todd - Freeform, Mind Control, Mission Reports, Movie Night, Mud, Multi, Out of uniform heroics, Siblings, Stephanie Brown - Freeform, Tea, Theatre, candlelight dinner, tim drake - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-06
Packaged: 2019-05-09 19:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14722010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon are dating again, but they can't seem to catch a break. If things keep up like this, they might start wondering what Gotham has against them.This takes place over the months following 'That Dance....Again.'





	1. Act I - Movie

“Ay me! for aught that I could ever read,

Could ever hear by tale or history,

The course of true love never did run smooth;”

~Lysander, _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , Act I, scene i

 

“What happened?” Batman asked. He eyed his protégés warily. He’d been on his way out when they’d arrived covered in mud. They were grinning like children and flicking drying mud at each other and the Cave. When a wayward handful of muck, splattered on his boots and marred the matte black finish with red clay, he had them sit on metal folding chairs while they waited for him to change his boots before making their reports. 

“Here.” Upon his return, Batman tossed towels at Batgirl and Nightwing.

Batgirl caught hers and pushed her cowl back. She wiped at the mud on her face and hands. Nightwing, on the other hand, ignored the mud. The towel landed haphazardly across his shoulder. He had a grin on his face and his eyes sparkled with a private joke. Batman’s scowl deepened. They were acting like children. If time travel was involved, this would be a whole new headache. He squinted through the lens of his cowl, engaging the analysis function. No, not time travel. Nightwing and Batgirl were the same as they had been when they left—only dirtier. “I thought you were going on a date.” 

“Well....” Nightwing drawled. “Funny you should mention that.”

Barbara bit her lip; this wasn’t going to start well. She felt a bit like she was a kid again under the critical eye of teacher. “That’s how it started. We went to a movie.”

Batman’s lips pulled into a tight line as he kept himself from chastising them. They were adults and could make their own decisions. Just because Bruce didn’t go to movie theatres anymore, didn’t mean they couldn’t. Sure, he’d invested in the best home entertainment system money could buy, but he couldn’t convince any of his children it was the only way to watch a movie. 

When they had dated the first time, Dick had confided in Babs, that until they started dating, he hadn’t been out to see a movie since before his parents had died. After his admission, going to movies had become one of their favourite activities to do on dates. At first it felt a bit like they were getting away with something behind Batman’s back. Then, it became a way to escape Gotham for a couple of hours. 

“The movie was fine,” Nightwing interrupted before Batman could do more than growl. “It was the walk home when things started to get weird.” 

“Explain...” 

Nightwing’s grin widened. He was in his element. Settling back in his chair, he began peeling his gloves off finger by finger. They landed on the ground with a squelching plop. “As I was saying, we were heading back before patrol when the trouble started...”

 

Dick and Babs stayed with the crowd as they exited the theatre. It was an old habit they’d adopted out of respect for Bruce. The odds of a random attack aimed at them lessened in they stayed with the crowd. However, tonight the crowd dispelled quickly and they were only half a block away from the theatre when they found themselves alone on the sidewalk. They didn’t increase their pace or change their direction.

“Do you want to try out the new ice cream shop on Lincoln?” Babs entwined her fingers between Dick’s. He adjusted his stride to match hers. 

“Sure,” he said casually as he leaned his head closer to hers. “What do you know about Freeze’s whereabouts?”

Babs closed her eyes and sorted through her mental files. “Freeze is at Blackgate in the infirmary. Last report out said he was unconscious, so expect him to be out within the week. We should be okay for tonight.” 

He pulled her close and kissed her fingers. “How do you keep all this straight?”

She shrugged. “Partly eidetic memory. Partly I’ve been doing this for years so I have systems in place to obtain the information I need. And,” she yawned, “partly because I get somewhere between Bruce and Tim levels of sleep.” 

“Then, I suppose I will have to get you some coffee to go with your ice cream.”

“Sounds goo--.”

“Help!” The scream—high pitched and urgent—broke through the evening air. 

They were off in a flash, all thoughts of ice cream had vanished. Following the screams even after they were silenced, Dick and Babs ended their chase at an alley wedged between two brick faced buildings. A rubbish bin had tipped, spilling crumpled food wrappers and empty coffee cups across the sidewalk. They needed to turn sideways in order to slip through the narrow opening. The alley itself was scarcely wider. Though there was not enough room for a fight, the rubbish and dirt that littered the ground showed signs of being recently disturbed. 

Babs pulled a flashlight from her bag and shone it over the ground and walls, looking for clues. “Any idea where they went?” 

“Yeah.” Dick grimaced and rolled his foot to the side. A gooey viscous substance connected the sole of his new trainer to the alley in oozing strands. “And I think I know who we’re dealing with.” 

“Me too. Clayface.” Her flashlight traced the trail of muddy amorphous hand- and footprints up the side of the building. 

“There’s a safe house a block south of here. We can change, then pick up the trail.” Even with needing to change, Dick knew that it would be faster to go themselves than call in backup from the Cave.

Babs shifted her backpack around, exchanging the flashlight for her grapple gun. She shot the grapple up to the roof and waited for it to catch. “Let’s go.”

Dick held onto Babs and the grapple as the automated winch assisted in pulling them up. 

 

Twenty minutes later, they were back on the same rooftop, this time as Batgirl and Nightwing. It didn’t take the world’s greatest detective to follow the path left by Clayface. Goopy footprints led the way like breadcrumbs. Either this was a trap, or Clayface’s consistency was changing again. Probably both. The footprints stopped outside an abandoned theatre in a part of town that had seen better days. 

Batgirl recognised the theatre from a mention in the Wayne Enterprises city revitalisation files. At some point after the no man’s land quarantine, Ratcatcher had used the theatre as a hideout. After his capture, the place had been condemned as a health hazard, though no one had gotten around to knocking it down. Next, Mr. Freeze had occupied the building, using the remaining roosting rats as test subjects for his latest cryogenic experiments. Once Batman had taken him down, the building had laid fallow until a group of avant-garde theatre students thought it was a perfect setting for their piece on the Nature of Gotham. Only, they hadn’t counted on the people’s aversion to setting foot in a known villain hideout and the play flopped. Since then, there had been no record of occupation. 

“Front door?” Nightwing asked, when their surveillance of the perimeter came up empty except for more muddy footprints. 

“No. Backdoor. We can enter through backstage. Whatever Clayface has planned, he’s most likely to be on stage.”

She was mostly right. 

The way was clear until they reached backstage.  Crowded among rat eaten flats and mouldy curtains, dozens of clay figures moved about the tasks of a stage crew—lights and rigging, props and costumes. Stagehands moved creaking set pieces. 

“The antagonists have arrive, right on cue,” Clayface said in a voice that sounded like he was gargling. His maw-like mouth drooped in a simulated frown. “I was hoping for the A-list talent, I suppose the understudies will have to do. After all, the show must go on.”

“Show?” Nightwing mouthed. 

Batgirl shrugged as several of Clayface’s muddy minions oozed up around Batgirl and Nightwing. The more the heroes tried to struggle against the undulating forms, the more they were subsumed. 

“Relax,” Batgirl said, spitting out a mouthful of mud. 

Once they stopped resisting, the clay figures ushered them out to center stage, then seeped back into their places backstage. Batgirl and Nightwing peered past the blinding stage lights and into the audience. The seats were filled with the silhouetted forms of gagged men and women tied to the chairs. Hostages. 

Clay figures with more defined appearances took their places on the stage. They moved to prescribed actions according to a script that neither Nightwing nor Batgirl knew. When the heroes tried to leave the stage, more of the oozing amorphous stagehands materialised along the edge of the stage and ushered them back to center. 

“He called us antagonists.” Nightwing unsheathed his eskrima sticks and slipped into a fighting stance. “He wants us to fight them.”

Batgirl’s rapid analysis of the situation concurred with Nightwing’s. Clayface had once been an actor and even in this form, he couldn’t resist the lure of the stage. And, in every good story, protagonist and antagonist alike saw themselves as the hero of their own story. If Clayface wrote the scrip, he would be the protagonist. 

She punched the nearest figure right in the center of its body mass. Her fist went through the chest, creating a hole and splattering mud over everything—from her face to the front few rows of the audience. The people screamed around their gags. From backstage, Clayface roared. 

Nightwing and Batgirl exchanged significant glances, carrying on a silent conversation of suppositions and theories. Nightwing swung his eskrima at the figure closest to him, knocking its head to the ground. This time Clayface’s scream was louder, more intense. He was connected to the cast and crew. Controlling them. 

“The show, the show. Play your parts.” Clayface ambled onto stage, a large menacing presence. He grabbed alternately at his head and chest, as through trying to hold himself together. “This isn’t a dumbshow. Say your lines!”  

If there was prescribed lines, Batgirl didn’t know them. Though, by this point in the evening, she realised the best way to distract Clayface was to antagonise him. She’d take a page from Nightwing’s playbook, this case called for banter. 

“I agreed to go to the movies tonight, not star in them.” Batgirl dodged as one of the oozing clay people began soliloquising in a mumbled rumble. It sounded like it was talking around a mouthful of rocks. Maybe it was. 

Nightwing grinned as he swung his eskrima sticks into another of the gooey forms before sending an electric charge through the clay figure and disrupting the psychic connection between it and Clayface’s central form. The fried figure melted into a puddle of mud. “Well, I always thought I’d do quite well if I decided to change professions. I’d be a star.”

At that remark, the remaining clay polyps turned their attention on Nightwing. “Star,” they moaned in unison. They began to meld into each other. “Clayface is the star.”

“I’ve got a plan.” Nightwing nodded up at the ceiling. “Have your grapple gun ready.” 

Batgirl followed his gaze and surmised his plan without further explanation. 

“No, there’s too many of you to be the star. Ensemble maybe, but your dialogue really isn’t working.” She edged around the en massing amalgam of actors and stagehands, partly shepherding them into center stage, partly getting into place for Nightwing’s plan. 

“Can you believe he called us the understudies? I think we’re smashing.” Nightwing swung at another of the clay actors, slicing through where its stomach would have been if it had been human and splattered mud over the stage.  

“If only we didn’t have to perform with such rank amateurs,” she said, drawing the remaining stagehands to join the undulating mass.  Nearly every mud figure had joined the mass at center stage. It writhed as Nightwing and Batgirl continued to batter at it. Various heads and mouths appeared, then disappeared, each reciting a different monologue. 

“Now,” Nightwing called. Both vigilantes aimed their grapple guns up at the creaking catwalk. Jerking at the cables in unison, then engaging the automated winches, they pulled the catwalk to the stage, trapping the mud actors underneath the metal framework. 

“Stay back,” he warned before touching the end of his eskrimas to the catwalk and initiating the charge. Electricity danced along the metallic grate and through the mud people. It disrupted the psychic link that Clayface used to control them. As all the former clay figures exploded, showering the entire theatre in mud, psychic feedback shot through Clayface. He dropped unconscious to the ground in an oozing shapeless mass of mud. 

Nightwing somersaulted off the stage and began freeing the audience while Batgirl put in a call to GCPD and the Batcave. 

 

“And that’s what happened.” Nightwing sat up straight and peeled the domino mask from his face. The contrast between the red mud and the clean skin under the mask made it appear as though he was still wearing a mask. 

Batgirl grimaced at the towel, trying to find a clean corner to wipe away the streak of drying mud dripping from her hair. How had she gotten mud in her hair? She swiped Dick’s towel and chafed at the mud. “Can we go shower now?”

Batman head throbbed. Massaging his temples through the cowl, he considered not going out this evening after all. He didn’t think he ever had a date that went this disastrous. No, maybe he didn’t want to contemplate that. 

“Go,” he said in more of a Bruce voice than a Batman voice. That settled it. He was staying in. 

“Thanks. I’ll make my additions to Dick’s incident report once I’m clean.” Babs crumpled the towels in her hands. 

“Hey, why am I writing the report?” Dick looped an arm around her waist.  

Finding a partially clean corner of the towel, she scrubbed at the mud on his cheek before kissing the clean-ish skin. “Because you did such a fine job of telling the story. See you.” 

Dick watched her leave. 

Bruce caught Dick by the arm before he could follow her back to the locker rooms. “Two things. First, shower before touching my computer.”

“Aye aye Captain. And your second command?” 

“Next time, try to avoid the super villains on your date.” 

Dick grinned and gave Bruce a cheeky wink. “I’ll try.”

Bruce sighed and let go of Dick, his hand covered in the red clay. 

 


	2. Act II - Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While things were rather light in the last chapter, things are getting a bit more intense in this instalment.

Tim almost jumped in his seat as the Alfa Romeo Spider tore into the Batcave at a speed that practically made his jaw drop to the ground when Babs—not Dick—stepped out of the driver’s seat. It wasn’t that Babs couldn’t race around with the best of them. She regularly did so, on her _motorcycle_. In a car, she tended to be a mite more cautious then the rest of them. Dick stormed out of the passenger seat keeping his distance from Babs. His lips were drawn into a deep scowl and the skin around his haunted eyes was tight and pinched. Babs reached out for him, but missed as he took the steps by twos. 

“How was dinner?” Tim asked, wondering if maybe he should hide instead or pretend he hadn’t seen a thing. 

It was too late for that. Besides their unnatural entrance (starting with bringing one of the civilian cars into the Batcave) and their stilted behaviour towards one another (even when they weren’t dating, it wasn’t like this), they were both in uniform. Though, her cowl was pushed back and his mask was off. Tim was certain they hadn’t left the Manor in uniform when they had headed out for their date. 

Dick ignored Tim in favour of muttering to himself. “It was the tea. TEA! The stupid bloody tea. Should have guessed...”

“You better not let Alfred hear you say that.” Tim clutched his mug of coffee in hopes that it wouldn’t be mistaken for the reviled tea in Dick’s present mood.

“Is it really too much to ask for one nice night out? One freakin’ evening...” Dick tossed his mask on the analysis table. Energy and tension rolled off him in waves that even his insistent pacing could not mellow. 

“Sorry,” Babs said with a little too much bite in her voice as she reached the top of the steps and leaned against the computer desk. “I didn’t think any of our rogues had a Japanese restaurant fixation.” 

“All right. Stop.” Tim pushed himself back from the computer, the chair rolling to a spot between Dick and Babs. “What’s wrong with you guys? What happened? I’ve been at the computer all evening and I haven’t heard anything about a confrontation. Tell me what’s up.”

“No.” Dick stormed towards the steps that led down to the practice areas and the infirmary, but didn’t go down.

Babs turned to the computer, working her magic and bringing up a series of police incident reports from the Burnside area. “You weren’t logged into the right account.” 

Tim scanned the reports, rapidly taking in the broad details. Over the last few hours, half a dozen restaurants in Burnside had reported attacks by various villains. “Which one were you at? And why tonight?”

Dick growled. “Let’s just get the report written.”

Babs closed her eyes and took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. _Centering herself_ , Tim thought. She crossed over to Dick and placed a hand on his shoulder. He jerked away from her touch, then froze in place. For Dick, he stood unnaturally still. His muscles were pulled tight, his posture rigid. Undaunted, she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her voice was low and soft. “Why don’t you go work it out on the rings or parallel bars. I’ll join you once I’ve written up the after action report.” 

The tension Dick had been hoarding began seeping from his muscles. His shoulders slumped like a collapsing soufflé and his head drooped against hers. “You know I love you, right?”

She nodded and allowed him to pull her close. “I love you too.” 

“I really am sorry about all that.” He brushed his thumb over her cheek. “I didn’t mean...”  
“Shh. I know. It’s not your fault.” She kissed him. 

“But...”

She brushed a light touch across the burn on his forehead. “It was him, not you.”

He couldn’t meet her eyes. “But it was my...”

“Dick, please, don’t take this on yourself. It could have just as easily been me.” Her words were choked with emotion. “Now, go on. You’ll feel better after you worked it out of your system.”

“Promise...you’ll join me? You won’t....leave...?” There was a tremor in his hands and his voice. The tightness in his eyes had been replaced by a wide-eyed vulnerability. He was asking about more than that evening.

Tim turned away from the couple. He felt like he was spying on something private and intimate. He didn’t belong here as they worked through whatever this was. 

“I’m not going anywhere. Promise.” Smiling at him for the first time since entering the Cave, Babs allowed Dick to be the first one to break the embrace. She waited for him to reach the practice area before heading back to the computer. 

For the first time since their arrival, Tim noticed Babs had a fresh bruise blooming across her cheek. When she noticed him staring, she turned her head allowing her hair to fall forward and cover her face. Tim got out of the chair and rolled it over to her. With a grateful smile, she collapsed onto the chair. 

“Want to talk about it?” Tim offered, uncertain of what else to do. The program he’d been working on could wait. 

“Not really.” Babs sighed heavily and massaged her temples. “Do you have any more of that coffee?” 

Tim glanced down in surprise at the mug he was still holding. “Uh, yeah. I can make some.” 

“Bring me some coffee and I’ll tell you what happened. I probably should talk to someone. At the very least it’ll help me get my thoughts straight for the report.” She winced. “My head is killing me.”

“I’ll be right back.” 

By the time Tim returned with two fresh mugs of coffee, Babs had removed her gloves and jacket. She still wore the lightweight body armour that was normally sandwiched between her jacket and t-shirt. From the look of it, the armour had received quite the beating recently and would need to be replaced before she went out again. On the computer screen, she’d pulled up the after action reports and had already filled in the framework of details—names, date, location.

He handed her the coffee and a bottle of painkillers. 

“Thanks.” She offered him a pinched smile that reminded him of the way Dick’s eyes had appeared. “Where should I start?”

Tim perched on the edge of the analysis table and picked up Dick’s mask. He turned it over in his hands. The top edges of the mask, where it attached along his forehead, were discoloured and brittle. “How about the beginning. Why’d you choose that restaurant?” 

“It’s restaurant week in Burnside. Many of the restaurants offer special deals to draw in new costumers and I wanted to try out that new ramen shop.”“It’s gotten good reviews.” He’d heard of it and had thought about trying it, but hadn’t gotten around to it yet. “Though, you could have gone anytime.” 

Babs rolled her eyes in a much closer to usual level of Barbara snark. “You do know that not everyone here is heir to wealthy fathers.” 

“Uh, right.” Tim exchanged the mask for his coffee and hid behind the mug, taking a sip. Steph would get on his case in a similar fashion whenever he treated money like it didn’t have an end. 

“Sorry. I think my brain is still more affected than I want to admit.” Babs moved the files around on the screen. “As I was saying, we’d gone to the ramen shop in Burnside, and we weren’t the only ones. The foyer was so crowded we decided to wait for our table outside. We weren’t the only ones....” 

 

“This better be good.” Dick shifted to his toes to see over the heads of the others waiting for tables. “I’m starving.” 

“Well, then next time you’ll be on time and we can avoid the dinner rush.” Babs stretched out on the bench, enjoying the warmth of the setting sun on her bare arms and face.

“Tea?” A waitress from the restaurant carried a tray of small paper cups filled with green tea. 

“Thank you.” Babs took the offered tea and sipped it. She wrinkled her nose. The tea was over brewed and bitter. Dick blew over the surface of his tea before gulping down a large sip. 

“Blech. Alfred would disapprove.” 

Babs set the cup beside her on the bench. “Well, we all can’t have a butler who has mastered the art of the perfect cuppa.”

Dick laughed and tossed back the rest of the tea. “See, I’m not a snob. Agh.” He doubled over clutching his stomach. 

“What’s wrong?” Babs was on her feet ready for action. Her head spun at the sudden movement. 

“That tea is foul.” He straightened and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “We should tell the waitress.”

“Yes.” But, it was already too late. 

Amid those patrons waiting their turn for a clear table, Dick wasn’t the only one who’d suffered an adverse reaction to the tea. As least one person from each group clutched at their stomach or held their head. Babs hopped up on the bench for a better view. 

“There she is.” Dick pointed at the waitress. All they could see was the back of her head with the dark hair of her ponytail pulled through the hole at the back of her black baseball cap. 

“That’s an odd choice...” Babs blinked as the waitress disappeared back into the restaurant while the host who’d taken their names, exited wearing a similar hat and approached the couple nearest to the door. “Dick, did you pack...”

He nodded. “In the boot.” 

“Think we should skip dinner and change?”

“My thoughts exactly.” 

 

By the time they returned, none of the waiting guests remained in front of the restaurant. 

“Should we head in?” Nightwing gestured to the door with one of his eskrima. 

Before Batgirl could respond, the host exited the restaurant and handed them a menu. “Your table is ready. Follow me,” she said in a stilted monotone.

“Should we follow?” Nightwing fidgeted in irritated jerky movements as though he was uncomfortable in his uniform. “Maybe we should just call the police.”

Batgirl rubbed under her cowl at a spot at the back of her skull. Her head throbbed and she couldn’t quite figure out why it was leaving her on edge. “Come on, you know as well as I do Mad Hatter is in there. You want to leave him to the police?”

“No. Let’s go.” He took off at a run and entered the restaurant only a step ahead of Batgirl. 

They stopped in unison at the sight. Every side of every table was crowded with people. They sat elbow-to-elbow wearing hats and mechanically drinking tea. At the bar, Mad Hatter sat in all his top hatted glory sipping tea. Without turning, he said, “Have you seen my Alice? I thought she’d come. I threw this tea party just for her.”

“It’s over Hatter, we’re taking you in.” Batgirl held a Batarang in trembling fingers. She wanted to drill holes into her skull as though that would relieve the pain that had been building in her brain since drinking the tea. Nightwing didn’t appear in much better shape, though instead of his head, he held his abdominal muscles tight. 

“You’re not my Alice.” Hatter turned on his stool, a giddy grin spread across his face. He rubbed his hands together. “Nobody told me the capes were invited. This might be fun after all.” 

He turned back to the bar and picked up his teacup that was clearly too British for the Japanese decor. “Tea?” 

“No more tea.” Nightwing flung his eskrima at the cup, shattering it into a million pieces. 

“No! No! No! NO!” Hatter screeched. “Hat them.”

Before Batgirl or Nightwing could react, the wait staff had them by the arms. Batgirl struggled against their grasps, trying not to hurt anyone. Under the hats, they were civilians. She managed to shake one arm free and reached for the comm in her cowl. “Batgirl to...”

Bzzzt. 

The waitress from earlier pushed one of the baseball caps on over the cowl and crumpled the ears. An unprecedented wave of anger washed over her at the thought of the ears being crumpled. Batgirl grabbed at her head and nearly collapsed as the technology in the hat short-circuited her cowl and the tech in her cowl short-circuited the hat. Her head buzzed. 

“Defend me,” Hatter instructed. 

The chairs crashed to the ground in a thunderous refrain as the patrons stood as one and turned towards the heroes. 

Batgirl stood, shaking off the pain and the hat. Whatever Hatter was trying to do with his tea, was wrecking havoc with her emotional state. Anger mixed with panic and a twist of pain. “Nightwing, let’s take him down.”

Nightwing didn’t respond. She tried to catch sight of him with her peripheral vision. He stood like a mannequin, his remaining eskrima raised for the attack. His face showed no pain, no emotion. It was as devoid of expression as the white lenses of his mask. 

She pivoted, facing him instead of Hatter. “Nightwing?”

“Oooh. Oooh.” Hatter nearly bounced off his seat. “This is even better than I imagined. Hero verses hero. Go on. Attack.”

Nightwing swung wide, missing her with the initial attack. He would never be that sloppy. She ran through the possibilities of what it meant. Hatter was holding his control too tight. Instead of allowing Nightwing’s well-honed fighting instincts to respond his suggestions, Hatter was controlling Nightwing’s body. He’d made the faulty assumption that strength and size was enough to win a confrontation.  

Batgirl backed away from Nightwing. The usual MO for dealing with Hatter dictated removing hats, but with the amount of tainted tea everyone was consuming, she wasn’t certain that would be enough. 

“Again, again,” Hatter cheered. 

When Nightwing hesitated, Hatter redoubled his efforts, this time, louder and with more passion. Spittle flew from his lips as he shouted, “AGAIN!”

With his chin tucked down and his body hunched over, Nightwing charged at her like a bull in a china shop. Batgirl dodged, a step back and to the side into the behatted crowd. When his target moved, Nightwing didn’t stop until he had stumbled into the crowd and crashed over the toppled chairs. 

Hoping the crowd would provide a buffer, she took aim with her Batarang and flung it at Hatter’s hat. She missed. 

“Ach!” Hatter clamped a hand over the top of his hat. “Minions protect me!”

The crowd she thought she could hide behind turned on her. They pushed her to ground and began barraging her with kicks to the torso and wild swings of broken chair legs. She curled in on herself, protecting her face and head. The armor took the majority of the most of the blows to her body, though she’d feel them in the morning. The pain piercing her head made it hard to concentrate, to plan. 

Hatter giggled and cackled, cheering his minions on. Though Nightwing had found his feet, he remained on the edge of the crowd neither participating in the attack nor defending her. She was on her own. 

It wasn’t the best of plans, but it was all she had at the moment. She kicked at the people standing near her feet. The mind-controlled people had no sense of self-preservation and fell as she kicked their feet out from under them. Through the newly formed gap, she wormed her way out of the crowd. They continued to beat the empty spot where she’d been. 

“The tea party is over, now,” Batgirl growled and flung another Batarang at Hatter. This one glanced off his hat and landed behind the bar. 

“It’s not over until I saw so. Switch partners.” He cackled, once again rubbing his hands together. 

Nightwing came at her again, this time catching her in the side with a glancing blow of his eskrima. As he pulled back for another strike, Batgirl was prepared. With a roundhouse kick, she hit the back of his hand. He released the eskrima and it clattered to the floor. 

She moved in, staying light on the balls of her feet. _Keep moving, get close, distract him._ She repeated the steps like a mantra trying to stay focused. 

His head bobbed as he followed her movements, but made no other moves. When she was close enough to make a grab for the hat, she feigned left, while she went in for it from the right. 

“Now!” Hatter commanded as her finger brushed the brim of the hat. 

At the command, Nightwing’s hand was up in a flash and swung at Batgirl. His palm struck her cheek in a resounding crack. 

Batgirl gasped, her hand automatically cradling her stinging cheek. Nightwing reeled back, collapsing to the ground. He rocked back and forth with his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around his legs. In a breathless voice he repeated over and over again, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry...”

“Get up you fool. Up. Up! UP!” Hatter was working himself into another frenzy.

Nightwing didn’t respond. Batgirl knelt beside him and tore off the cap. The expression on his face writhed with pure agony and remorse. “Nightwing. I need your help.” She wanted to say his real name, to call him out of the panic attack, to hold him, but she dared not say his name. 

No more delays. No more weakness. She had had enough. Picking the eskrima off the floor, Batgirl tested the familiar weight in her hand. She hadn’t used eskrima regularly since becoming Batgirl again. She found the second one lying not far away. It felt good to hold them again. 

She stood. The pain, the anger, and the utter desire to be finished with this sorry excuse for a human being raged through her eyes. She came at him with all the fury of an avenging Bat.

“No. No. No.” Hatter was muttering more to himself than to any of his mind-controlled minions. He tried to scramble away, though there wasn’t anywhere he could go while seated on the stool. 

“Enough with your tea.” She smashed an eskrima down on the teapot. Green tea the colour of absinth spilled over the broken shards of china. “Enough with your hats.” The second eskrima knocked his hat to the ground, barely missing his head. Turning the electric charge on, she placed both eskrima along the control band of the hat. The circuitry fried filling the air with the acrid scent of burnt electronics. She faced Hatter, both eskrima raised and ready for the attack. In a voice of ice and steel, she said, “And enough of you.” 

Hatter fell off his stool weeping. “Alice. Alice. My Alice.” 

She didn’t have patience for him. Her hands trembled with the desire to beat him to a bloody pulp, but the sound of Nightwing’s sobs echoing in her ears gave her pause. She lowered the eskrima and pulled heavy-duty zip ties from her utility belt instead. Restraining him, she fastened his wrists together, then with another tie, fastened him to the nearest stool. 

The formally hat controlled people began to stir, a collective moan emitting from the crowd as they once again felt the effects of the tea. Soon they’d be conscious enough to realize, at least in part, what had happened to them. 

Finding a phone behind the host podium, she dialed 911 and left an anonymous call concerning the whereabouts of the Mad Hatter. By that point, Nightwing had found his feet and had headed towards the door. She reached for him, to hold him and to see how he was doing. 

He flinched away before she could touch him. “Let’s go home.” 

They headed back to the car in a heavy silence that continued all the way back to the Cave. Never once did Nightwing, never once did Dick, try to reach out and touch her. To embrace her. He withdrew into himself like his mere presence would harm her. 

 

Tim drained the last of his now cold coffee. “Oh, wow. Are you okay?”

Babs shrugged. “I’m better off than Dick. The cowl protected me from the hat’s control and I drank less of the tea so my emotional balance is better. I’m theorizing that while wearing a hat, the effects of the tea were nullified. Then, the hat and tea worked in concert to increase Hatter’s control...”

“That’s not what I mean.” Her clinical approach was helpful when it came to writing the reports and putting clues together, but that’s not what she needed when dealing with Dick. He tapped a finger over his heart. “I mean in here.” 

She didn’t say anything. Her fingers danced over the keyboard recording the details of the incident. Every once in a while she swiped a finger across her eyes. 

Tim watched her work, uncertain of how to get through to her. He tried again. “You know, this wasn’t the first time Dick’s been mind controlled...”

“I know.” Babs turned away from Tim. “Not my first time either.”

“He hates being out of control.” Tim groaned. This wasn’t working. Of course he hated being out of control. What was the real issue here? The mind control was the obvious part, there had to be something more. Dick had kept the reports from his Titans days sparse, but Tim could read between the lines. That’s when it dawned on him. “He hurt you...I’m certain he blames himself for that. Maybe even hates himself. It’s eating away at him. He would never....”

“I know,” she said through clenched teeth, the words strained. Tears fell down her face. “I don’t blame him for any of this. I don’t care about the injuries. It’s like when we’re sparring down here. We get bruises. Accidents happen.”

Tim fought back the urge to run away and let the adults deal with this. Instead, his brain sought an answer that would actually help. What would Steph say? That’s when he knew what he would do. He moved over besides Babs and perched on the edge of the computer desk. When he spoke, he kept his voice low, non-confrontational. “From the story you told me, it sounds like Dick fought the mind control. He broke through the control on his own—before you removed the hat.”

Babs wiped at her eyes with the side of her hand. “Yeah, he did.” 

“I know this is going to sound a little clichéd and all that. He was able to break through the mind control ‘cause he loves you. When Mad Hatter forced him to strike you—to hurt the one he loves—it broke something inside of him. It was the last straw that allowed him to break Hatter’s control. Babs, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone break Mad Hatter’s control without the removal of hats. So, don’t doubt his love for you, okay?”

“Okay. You should tell Dick that too.” She sniffed and stared at the half-filled out form. “I should get back to this...”

“First, this.” Tim wrapped his arms around Babs in an awkward hug. Physical displays of emotion were Dick’s thing, not his; still he wasn’t going to avoid them when the woman who was like a sister to him needed one. 

Babs smiled, appreciating the effort. “Thanks. What’s the next thing?”

“Oh, right. I don’t mean to sound creepy, but I think I should check yours and Dick’s blood work. See what’s left of Hatter’s tea in your system. You know the routine.”

“Yes.” She rolled up her sleeve and held her arm out. “Go ahead Dr. Dracula.” 

Tim smiled, he was confident Dick and Babs would work through this. They’d come through it stronger. Though, he wished fate or Gotham or whatever it was, would give the two of them a break. 

 


	3. Act III - Candlelight

“Come to Bludhaven, you said. It’s been quiet in Bludhaven.” Batgirl gestured out at the smouldering horizon. The dark smoke rising from the ruins marred the red dawn. “Does this look quiet to you?”

Nightwing shrugged. “Not so much. But in my defence, this is the most action I’ve seen here in months.” 

Batgirl scrubbed at her sweat and soot-covered face. The remains of their dinner were still spread out on the card table Dick had lugged up to the roof. Despite the hollow emptiness in the pit of her stomach, she didn’t think she could eat. Not after all of that. Nightwing moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Let’s head down to my place. We can clean up, get some sleep.” 

She shook her head. “I told you, I’m not staying...” 

“Hey, I’m not saying sleep with me. Just get some sleep. You can take the bed or the couch. Your choice. After all that, we could both use some sleep before fighting the traffic back to Gotham.”

“Fine.” She yawned and tugged at her cowl. If she didn’t even have the energy to fight with him about this, then it really wasn’t a wise idea to drive.

He removed his mask and headed towards the corner of the roof where he opened a locked waterproof box. Pulling two sweatshirts from the box, he tossed one to Babs. She pulled the Gotham Knights hoodie over her head while he zipped up a plain blue one. 

Dick yawned. “Believe it or not, I’m not feeling up to rappelling down the building, so we’ll take the stairs. I think its still early enough the sweatshirts should be sufficient if we run into anyone.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Babs pulled her hands up into the sleeves and snuggled into the soft well-worn sweatshirt. She pulled up the hood hoping it would keep anyone from noticing the charred ends of her hair. 

He gathered the remnants of dinner and stuffed them haphazardly into the picnic basket. He’d come back later for the table and chairs. “Ready?”

“Yes.” Babs closed her eyes and leaned against Dick, allowing him to lead the way. How had a candlelight dinner turned into this?

 

“I smell burning.” Babs said. She dragged a French fry through the puddle of ketchup. Apparently Dick’s idea of making dinner was picking up hamburgers, fries, and coleslaw from the local diner. 

“That’s not possible. They’re battery powered.” Dick picked up one of the tea lights he’d arranged around the table for atmosphere. The yellow-orange flame shaped light flickered as he flipped the switch from on to off, and back again. “Anyways, you’re deflecting. Why won’t you spend the night?”

“I’ve already explained.” Babs pushed back her chair and headed for the edge of the roof. She peered out into the darkness. “I’m certain, something’s burning.” 

Dick joined her at the edge of the roof. The horizon glinted with a flickering red-orange. “Do you have a comm?”  
“With my gear down in your apartment.” She pointed in the direction of the glow. “What’s over there?”

“The harbour. There’s a bunch of warehouses in that direction.” He paused to run through his active case files. “They’ve been relatively clean since B took down that last supply run. That was, what, a month and a half ago? Probably due for a new incident.” 

“Should we gear up?” 

“You don’t have to, but I should check it out.” He sat on the edge of the roof and found his handholds to climb down. 

“We’re in this together. You go, I go.” She paled as she glanced down, watching him free climb. 

“Then stand back, I’ll send up a line,” he said as he slid into his apartment. A moment later a grapple hooked along the edge of the roof. Using the line, she made her way down and inside. 

 

A half hour later, Batgirl and Nightwing arrived on the scene. They’d taken Nightwing’s motorcycle across town and parked about a block away. From there, they went the rest of the way on foot. Firefighters from at least three different stations were already on the scene, battling the flames consuming three different warehouses. None of the warehouses were next to each other, so three was quickly becoming six. The fire threatened to continue multiplying down the blocks of closely neighbouring warehouses. 

“Chief, how can we help?” Nightwing stopped beside one of the firefighters who appeared to be in charge. 

The woman recognised Nightwing by reputation, if not by sight. She gave Batgirl a sidelong glance, but she didn’t have time to wonder who the new mask might be or why she was in Bludhaven. The name on her uniform said Messer. “Do you know anything about fighting fires?” 

Batgirl shook her head. “No.”

“How about those costumes of yours, are they fireproof?” 

“Resistant, at best,” Nightwing said. Neither of them had anything that compared to Batman’s cape. 

“Then the best you can do is stay out of our way and try to find the idiot starting these fires without getting yourselves killed.” Chief Messer turned to head back to her duties. 

“Wait, are you saying this is arson?” Batgirl asked before they lost the Chief. 

“Not officially.” She pointed at the three separate locations. “The odds of these three warehouse spontaneously igniting in the same evening are nearly astronomical. Besides, there’s the...”

KA-BOOM!

An explosion sent shockwaves through the area. Smoke and fire soon appeared, consuming a fourth warehouse. Like the others, it wasn’t physically connected to already burning buildings. 

The Chief placed her hand over her ear while she listened to a radio that Batgirl had not yet tapped into. Nightwing was listening in. “Confirmed. All four are owned by the same shell corporation. There’s two more listed in the records.”

“That’s fast.” Batgirl was impressed by the speed at which the Bludhaven emergency services obtained and shared information. 

“Not really. All six have been cordoned off as evidence in a big case between Gotham and Bludhaven. A bunch of up and coming mobsters were running guns for drugs between the sister cities. Little sister always wants what big sister has, even if it’s no good for her.” Chief Messer surveyed the men and woman working, trying to contain the fire as wind off the bay threatened to accelerate the spread of the blaze. Without another word to the vigilantes, Chief Messer was off shouting orders. 

Batgirl and Nightwing exchanged glances. So, this was connected back to the case Batman had wrapped up the night they decided to give their relationship another chance. 

“We should check out the last two locations,” Nightwing said, stepping into the role of leader. His city, his rules. “We need to try and stop the arsonist—bomber?—before he strikes again.” 

Batgirl pulled up her gauntlet computer, accessing her backdoors to the Gotham police databases. They should have the locations of the additional warehouses, as long as the cases were connected. A map flickered up on the glowing screen. 

“These four,” Nightwing poked at four dots clustered around their present location, “are the ones already hit. These two outliers, look like the others the Chief was talking about.” The last two were in opposite directions of the central grouping. 

“Together or separate?” Batgirl asked. She closed down the map after memorising the locations. 

Nightwing frowned. Separate they could cover more ground; together they could watch each other’s backs. Neither option was ideal. He opted for speed. “Separate. Keep your comm open.” 

“Aye, aye, captain.” She tried to keep her voice light, but it wasn’t coming through. “I’ll take the one to the east.”

“Then I have the west.” Before taking off at a run, he grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “Be careful. I love you.” 

She returned the squeeze. “Same goes for you Boy Wonder. I love you.” 

With that, they were off. 

 

Over the years, Batgirl had been in more than her fair share of creepy warehouses and this one was no different. The electricity had been cut and the building was heavy with shadows. She pulled a pair of night vision goggles from her utility belt and slipped them on over her cowl. The shadows disappeared and previously unseen object jumped to the foreground. 

Industrial shelves that reached for the ceiling were crowded with all variety of crates, boxes and containers. From a quick survey, it appeared the illegal was hidden among the legal. Turning a corner, she stumbled upon a section of shelves crowded with crates bearing the Wayne Enterprises logo. 

She tried to swallow back the niggling suspicion that scratched at the back of her throat. It wouldn’t disappear. As much as she might want to, she couldn’t blame it on the smoke and ash that hung low in the air from the other fires. Something was definitely wrong. Even with all the chaos the warehouse had been too easy to break into. And six warehouses, that was too many for a few up and coming mobsters. In a way, it made sense to spread out your illegal products. If one warehouse was raided, the others might be ignored. But, even with the amount of legitimate merchandise in this warehouse alone, the cost of maintaining and running the SIX warehouses would eat quite hole into their profits. Top that off with the Wayne Enterprises crates, something wasn’t right. 

She pried up the corner of one of the boxes, revealing vials of artificially coloured serum. It could be the Venom-esque drug, or it could be any number of other drugs that passed between the cities. She slipped a vial from the case, trying to read the markings. They were labeled in one of the languages she couldn’t read. From the Cyrillic alphabet, she could safely narrow down the possibilities to one of the Slavic languages. Her brow furrowed as she considered the implications. When she thought about Venom, she didn’t generally connect it to Eastern Europe. She slipped the vial into her belt for later analysis. 

In truth, she hadn’t paid much attention to the case after Batman had wrapped it up on the Gotham end. Now she was worried she had missed something that should have been more than obvious. And, there was the questions no one had asked. What was Bane’s involvement? Santa Prisca? 

Tapping at her gauntlet computer, she made certain her cowl camera was recording everything. Despite the many questions as she had about the crates and the previous case, they were not the reason she was here. If they couldn’t catch the arsonist, all this evidence wouldn’t do them any good if it went up in smoke. 

“Batgirl, status?” Nightwing’s voice crackled through the comm. 

“No sign of the arsonist yet,” she whispered into the comm. “But, there’s something off with this warehouse. Think there’s more to the case than we knew.” 

“Agreed. Same here. Keep your line open.”

“Of course...Wait.” From somewhere nearby she heard the skritch of a match head against a striking surface. “I think he’s here.”  
“Stay safe. I’m headed in your direction.” The line went silent, but didn’t click off.

She stepped back into the shadows and listened, trying to center in on the source. The scent of the new fire mingled with the scent of the old. She edged along the shelves, her foot slipping in a puddle of liquid accelerant. Biting back a curse, she moved away from the shelves towards the center of the room. The uneven slap of rubber soles against concrete making a beeline from the back of the warehouse towards the exit drew her attention. Focusing in on the movement, she was almost surprised when the figure was a small man with a twitch. 

Making her own rapid dash for the exit, Batgirl slammed against the door. The door budged, but slammed shut before the latch could click past the jamb. She battered at the door again, using her shoulder. It moved, threatening to slam shut again. She redoubled her efforts, slamming into the door again while it was still open a crack. One more time and she could make it out. 

“G-give me my m-money. An-and I’ll st-stop.” He stuttered to the rhythm of the twitch she’d observed inside. 

Batgirl stopped, losing her momentum. The door was the only thing that separated her and the arsonist. If she slackened her pressure on the door it would slam shut. “What money?” she asked, hoping to keep him talking. 

“Y-you p-promised. I d-did my b-bit. N-not my fault th-they got p-pinched.” 

“Sir,” Batgirl kept her voice calm. “I’m pretty certain that I’m not who you think I am.” “Wh-who are you?” The anxiety in his voice was edged with curiosity. 

“Open the door and I’ll show you.” 

The external pressure on the door eased. “N-no t-tricks.” 

“I understand. I’m coming out now.” She pushed the door far enough open so she could slip through sideways. 

“I-I said. N-no t-tricks,” he gasped. He clearly hadn’t expected a vigilante. 

“No tricks. I’m Batgirl. I’m investigating the fires.” Slowly she started to edge away from the building. As she raised her hands, showing they were empty, and pushed up her night vision goggles, revealing her eyes. 

“Batgirl. Batgirl, respond. What’s happening?” Nightwing’s voice shouted in her cowl. Even tinged with desperation and panic, it was good to hear his voice. 

“Now that we’re outside, can you tell me why you’re starting these fires?” She felt like she was in a bad radio play, but she needed Nightwing to know her sitrep as fast as possible without the arsonist knowing she was talking to someone else.

“Understood. I’m almost there,” Nightwing said. 

The man prattled on about promised money. From the needle tracks crawling up his arm, drugs were most likely also involved. 

“What’s your name?” 

“M-martin Sm-smith. Marty,” he exhaled his preferred nomenclature without a stutter. 

Nightwing groaned. “No.”

“All right, Marty, let me see if I got this right. You did some work for the mob. They promised you money, but didn’t pay you.” 

“Y-yes.”

“Why do you need the money?”

Marty screwed up his face as tears welled in his eyes. His hands shook. “My d-daughter. D-daisy.”

Batgirl stomach writhed in a queasy knot. Sure, the man was an arsonist and a drug addict, he was also a father. “Marty, I need you to think about this. Setting fire to these warehouses won’t help your daughter. Daisy. If you want to help her, you need to turn yourself into the police. Tell them what you know.” 

Behind her, she heard Nightwing arrive. He remained in the shadows, waiting to observe how he was needed before entering the scene. He knew Marty. They had had their share of run-ins over the years. He was usually small time. Nightwing could never remember him being involved in anything this complex. It’s why he’d given Marty a second chance...

“I c-can’t. Pr-promised to c-clean up my act. He-he’ll know.” 

“Promised who?” Batgirl asked calmly, hoping her own forced calm would translate into actual calm. 

“Me.” Nightwing materialised from the shadows. “Marty, why?”

The man crumpled to the ground. “Her m-ma. T-took her. Said I n-needed to p-provide.” 

Nightwing squeezed Batgirl’s shoulder. She knelt down beside Marty. “Come with me. We’ll get you help.” 

“T-too late. T-too late,” he whimpered. “N-not j-just the f-fire.”

KA-BOOM!

The shock waves threw Batgirl and Nightwing to the ground. Their uniforms and armour protected them from the worse of the road rash, still they would feel the bruises for days. Batgirl stumbled to her feet and ran towards Marty, who had headed back into the building. Her ears rang and she couldn’t hear Nightwing calling after her. The inside of the warehouse was an inferno. Flames licked up the walls and shelves, consuming the crates and boxes. All the evidence was going up in smoke and she didn’t care. She could scarcely see Marty through the black smoke as he stumbled further inside. 

“Stop!” she called after him. He couldn’t hear her or didn’t want to. 

One of the shelves buckled and broke under the heat. Half-melted, half-charred cases fell from the top shelves missing her by inches. The debris blocked her way. “No!” Nightwing caught up to her. He swatted at her back, smothering the sparks the singed her long hair. Pressing his lips to her ear, he yelled, “We need to go. There’s nothing we can do.” 

As though to prove him correct, another shelf began to lean, this time, towards the door. 

Smoke and sweat and tears burned in her eyes as they made their way to the exit. Once they were outside, she noticed that the same could be said for Nightwing. While they held each other, Nightwing made the call into emergency services, informing them that Martin Smith had set his final fire. 

Sirens filled the night air, heralding the arrival of the fire trucks. There was still work to be done. 

 

Babs had showered and changed into a pair of Dick’s sweats and one of his oversized hoodies. She crashed on the couch and curled up into a tight ball. She tucked her hands inside sleeves and inhaled Dick’s scent. Even though she’d brushed her teeth a half dozen times, she still tasted the smoke and ash clinging to her tongue. She wanted to sleep for days. She wanted to sleep until she forgot all the fire and death. 

Beyond exhausted, she couldn’t sleep. She stared into the middle distance and didn’t stir until Dick slumped on the couch beside her. He placed a bowl of cereal and a mug of tea in her hands. “Sorry, the cereal’s dry. I’m out of milk.” 

“S-okay.” She placed the plastic bowl on her lap and wrapped her hands around the mug. “I still smell burning.” 

Dick ran his fingers through her damp hair. “Your hair. It’s charred on the ends. Do you want me to cut it?”

She nodded. Though the tea was tasteless, it washed away a bit of the smoke. 

With only slightly trembling hands, he trimmed her long hair an inch or so above the burnt ends. He gathered the clippings and dumped them in the trash before returning to the couch. 

Babs only stared at her cereal. “It still gets me, you know. Every time. No matter how bad they are.” She rubbed her thumb over the scar from Joker’s bullet. “And, he wasn’t even all that bad. I keep thinking there must have been something else I could do. If I was faster or smarter or something....there wouldn’t be a little girl waking up without her father....”

“I know. It gets me too.” He dragged his finger through the dry cereal, leaving furrows in among the chocolate Chex. “Do you think Bruce ever feels this way?” 

She shrugged, her shoulder bouncing against his. “I don’t know. Probably.”

He nodded and found the tv remote. “Do you mind?”

She shook her head. 

Shifting through the menus, he pulled up a British children’s cartoon featuring a girl and her duck. The show started playing partway through a second season episode. Though it was clearly meant for small children, they allowed the charming innocence to wash over them. If only all problems could be solved with the same mixture of imagination and kindness. 

When the tv prompted them to decide if they were going to keep watching, Dick backed out of the menus and shut down the tv. Babs stared at her empty mug. She didn’t remember drinking it. 

“I didn’t know you still watched kid’s cartoons after a bad night,” she said. 

He picked at the cereal, still mostly uneaten. “Don’t tell the others.”

“Why? We all have our ways of coping.” Each blink was growing heavier. 

“I don’t know. My brothers would tease me.” He yawned and rested his head against Babs’. “Of everyone, I’ve dated, or lived with, you’re the only one who knows this about me. I kinda like that.”

“Then your secret’s safe with me.” 

Her eyes closed and her breathing fell into an easy pattern. For a few minutes she flirted with sleep, before jerking upright. Her bowl tumbled to the floor, spilling cereal across the carpet. 

“Hey Dick,” she entwined her fingers between Dick’s. Her brain was suddenly working overtime. She had left things unsaid, and now they wouldn’t let her sleep until she knew Dick understood. “You know, it’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you. It’s just...with our history...I want our relationship to be more then physical. That part has always been easy. It’s the other parts that always seem to trip us up.”

“I get it. No pressure, I promise.” He kissed the crown of her head. Sitting with her after a rough night out, he couldn’t help but marvel at the strong, intelligent, beautiful woman at his side. Would it be too much to ask for every night—the good and the bad—to end like this? “You know, you’re my best friend.” 

“You’re mine too.” She hummed happily. Sleep tugging at her eyelids now that she said what she had needed to say.

“I love you, Barbara Gordon. We’re going to make it work this time,” he promised, whispering into her hair. 

Already asleep, she didn’t respond. Closing his eyes, he was asleep before he could finish thinking he was the luckiest man in the world. Cuddled side by side on the couch, they remained fast asleep until morning faded into afternoon. 

 


	4. Act IV - Double Date

It was taking all Bruce’s considerable willpower to keep from yawning. Sometimes the nights were simply too long and the mornings were too early. Other times the meetings were that dreadfully dull. This was one of those other times. In another thirty seconds he would need to rein them back on subject, and only then could he propose the vote he’d been waiting the entire meeting to suggest. It was the whole purpose for this meeting.

At the sound of the scuffle in the hall, all vestiges of weariness disappeared and he was completely alert for the first time in hours. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. The men and women gathered around the boardroom table shifted in their seats, recognising the change of energy in the room, but not its source. 

“Bruce! Bruce! Let me go! I need to see my dad!” 

Bruce stood so suddenly his chair crashed to the ground making the others jump. That was Tim’s voice. 

“Pardon me,” he said, heading for the door, “I’m afraid I will have to postpone the rest of the meeting.” 

He left the room before any of the others had a chance to protest. Once in the hallway, he immediately zeroed in on the source of the unrest and headed towards Tim who was barreling down the hallway in his direction. 

Tim finally stopped when he was in front of Bruce. He hunched over with his hands on his knees while he gasped for breath. Tim might not be the natural athlete his other sons were, but that didn’t explain his laboured breathing. For him to make this kind of fuss, someone was in trouble.

Two of the Wayne Enterprise security guards rushed in behind Tim, too late to do any good if Tim had meant harm. Mentally he added talking to HR to his schedule. They needed to increase the guards’ training. Then he’d remind them that the Wayne children had free access to all his holdings.  

“Sorry, sir.” Lenny, the first guard to arrive on the scene, had been with WE for years. His red hair was starting to go white and he was going soft around the middle. “We know you had a meeting. We tried to stop him.”

“Thank you gentlemen.” Bruce waved them off. “I can take it from here. This is my son and there’s been a family emergency.” 

Tim nodded and panted, “Dick.”

Bruce felt it as the blood drained from his face and his own breath catch in his chest. “We need to go.” 

He helped Tim stand and the two Waynes headed for Bruce’s office. Once behind the locked door he could breathe again. 

“Report,” Bruce growled in the Batman rumble. 

Tim straightened, already back to breathing close to normal. “Dick, Babs, Steph, and I were on a double-date...”

 

“Why am I here?” Tim complained—again—even though he already knew the answer.

Dick and Babs exchanged smirks before glancing over their shoulders at their shadows. “Stephanie,” the said in unison. 

Tim rolled his eyes. 

“What?” Steph clasped her hands over her heart in an overdramatic fashion as though she’d been wounded. “There was no way I was letting the two of you out of the house un-chaperoned for this date. Not after your run of recent luck.” 

“Fine,” Tim grumbled. “If their luck rubs off on us, I’m out of here.”

“Not before ice cream.” Dick stopped in his tracks, causing the still walking Tim to run into him. “I won fair and square.” 

“You cheated. You bring Damian to the arcade every time you’re in town.” Tim skirted around Dick, so now he was in the lead. “Besides, we could have played video games at the Manor. The graphics would have been better.”

“That’s not the point.” Babs ruffled Tim’s hair. He was making her feel old. “Besides, you should have known better than to accept Dick’s challenge for that dancing game. 

Tim jerked his head out of reach and jogged ahead. 

“Timmy, don’t be that way.” Dick dropped Babs’ hand caught up with his brother.

Steph sidled up besides Babs. “I noticed you didn’t take Dick’s dance challenge.” 

“I know my limits.” Babs tired to stuff back the memories before Steph noticed. The dancing game had reached its height of popularity while she was still wheelchair bound, so she didn’t have the same years of practice. And now, while she’d regained most of the strength in her legs, sometimes the dexterity still tripped her up—literally. 

Steph looped her arm around Babs and gave her a cheeky wink. “Besides, it’s more fun to watch, right?”  
“Right.” Babs laughed. This wasn’t the exact date she’d planned, but it had been fun so far. She was almost glad Steph had insisted on tagging along. “Wait. Are you and Tim dating again?”

Steph hesitated, slowing her pace. She tugged on the end of the scarf until it slipped back over the crown of her head. With more focus than the task needed, she untied the scarf at her nape and wrapped it around her wrist instead. 

“No. I don’t know. It’s complicated. I mean, we hang out all the time, but I don’t think we’re ‘ _together_.’” Steph sighed, heavy but not dramatic. “Our history is...complicated.” 

“Believe me Steph, I get complicated.” 

“That’s why I keep you around.” Steph bounced a step ahead of Babs. Tim and Dick had stopped at the end of the block and were waiting for Steph and Babs to catch up. “I wonder what they’re talking about.” 

“Why don’t you ask them?”

“Good idea.” She skipped forward, wedging herself between the guys. “What’s up, Mr. Grumpy Pants? This is suppose to be fun.”

“St-eph,” Tim whined. 

Steph stuck out her tongue and checked him with her shoulder, sending him sidestepping towards the curb. 

He managed to stop himself before stumbling into the street. 

“Ooh, look. Here’s the ice cream shop.” She pointed across the street at the Double-Scoop. “Bet I can get there first.” 

Steph ran across the street with Tim at her heels, leaving the couple the opportunity to linger without their chaperones. 

 

Tim somehow managed to carry all four waffle cones at once without spilling any of them. “Here,” he said holding them over the table and waiting for the others to grab theirs before sitting down beside Steph. 

“Aww, Timmy, you got me sprinkles.” Dick grinned and flicked a red sprinkle at his little brother. 

“Only because you’re five.” Tim brushed the sprinkle off his shirt and dug into the scoop of mocha ice cream with a teal plastic spoon. 

Babs licked at the green tea ice cream dribbling down the side of her cone. “Uh-uh. He’s definitely not five.” 

“He only acts that way because you react, Tim.” Steph licked the top of her ice cream scoop, smearing a dab of triple chocolate on her nose. Tim handed her a napkin.

“That’s not how you do it.” Dick bumped his shoulder against Babs, jostling the cone and leaving a smear of light green ice cream at the corner of her lip. 

“Hey!” Babs laughed and turned towards Dick. The mischievous twinkle in her eyes mirrored the one in Dick’s. “You’re making a mess.” 

“I know,” he murmured and leaned over to kiss her, taking care of the ice cream. 

Tim turned an almost Red Robin shade of red and tugged at Steph’s sleeve. “Uh...maybe we should give them some privacy.”

Steph giggled. “No way. They’ll have to come up for air before their ice cream melts.”

“Mmm,” Babs said as they broke away from the kiss. “Tasty.”

“That’s how it’s done.” Dick took a bite of his strawberry ice cream, cringing immediately at the brain freeze. 

Before Tim could turn an even deeper shade of red, or run for the hills whether Steph followed him or not, the door of the ice cream parlour flung open with a resounding crash. Of everyone in the shop, only the four plain-clothed heroes didn’t scream or cower. Instead they warily watched the scene unfold as two pairs of henchmen piled into the shop brandishing .22 pistols. They blocked the doorway, preventing anyone from leaving. From the back, two more sets of twins escorted the employees into the front. All the henches were either twins or at least close enough in appearance to give that impression. 

“No way,” Steph groaned. Tim cursed and glared daggers at everyone present. Barbara’s shoulders sagged and Dick dropped his head against Babs’. 

“Be prepared to act helpless,” Babs reminded the others. No uniforms meant no out of the ordinary heroics. 

“I hate this,” Dick sighed. 

“All right folks, listen up.” The largest of the henchmen stepped forward. He emphasised his speech by gesturing with this gun. His finger was against the trigger. “The boss is on his way. He sent us to make sure everything is ready and the good news for most of youse is that we don’t need...” He started counting the room’s occupants but gave up when he exceeded twenty. “....We only need two. So, line up against that there counter.”

Dick grabbed Stephanie and Tim by the arms, ushering them to the counter. If they’d been outside, they could run, find an alley and take to the roofs. But, here there were too many witnesses, too many civilians and no way out unobserved. By unspoken mutual agreement, they stayed. 

Surveying the room, Dick realised how busy the shop had been. There was a teenage couple on a first date, a group of pre-teen girls who still carried the scent of chlorine after swim practice, and several elderly couples who met at the shop to reminisce. Terrified parents tried to keep school aged children from drawing attention to themselves with screams or tears. A young mother frantically tried to convince her toddler to come with her instead of clinging to the table leg. A birthday party worth of kids clumped behind a handful of adults. The uneasy churn of his stomach threatened to rebel as he realised, the party was celebrating a set of twins tenth birthday. 

“Mikey,” the lead henchman called to his double. “Check out the potentials. Figure out which two will make the best _guests_.”

Forcing down the voice that demanded he remain incognito, Dick stepped forward and addressed the lead henchman. “Who’s your boss?”

“Two-Face. Thought that was obvious with the number twos involved. Anymore questions, wise guy?” He pressed his pistol against Dick’s shoulder. Dick didn’t back down. 

From his place in the lineup, Tim inhaled a short sharp gasp of breath. He shifted into a ready stance, which Barbara quelled with a glance. She stepped up beside Dick. “There’s no need for the gun,” she said in a calm placating voice. “We’re complying with your request.” 

“Simon,” Mikey was at the end of the line where the birthday party attendees huddled. “Think the boss might like...”

Dick swallowed back any hesitation or doubt. He knew what he needed to do. In uniform or not, this was his responsibility. The uniform wasn’t what made him Nightwing. Without a word, Babs sensed his decision and she would be by his side the entire way. She squeezed his hand lending him her strength. 

Before Mikey could finish the thought, Dick said, “Take me.” 

“And me. That’s your two.” Babs met Simon’s eyes daring him to look away.

After a drawn out moment, Simon broke Babs’ gaze and studied the two potential hostages, the rest of the room forgotten. “Why’d I take you two? You’re nothing but troublemakers.” 

“We’re more valuable than the rest of them combined. My father is Bruce Wayne and hers is the police commissioner,” Dick said. He didn’t actually think his life held any more value than the others, but, with the exception of Tim, Dick knew the henchmen would consider him financially more valuable than the others. Babs, as Jim Gordon’s daughter, had a unique leverage value in a hostage situation. If you added all of that to the fact that even in their civilian identities, Dick and Babs offered a kind of balance that the duel identity of Harvey Dent/Two-Face would appreciate. 

“Don’t move,” Simon growled at Dick and Babs and, by extension, to the rest of the room. He stepped away and gestured to his underlings to join him in a huddle. The eight henches briefly discussed the situation in hushed tones. When they broke, Simon and Mikey were clearly on opposite sides of the discussion with Simon winning the vote. 

“All right. We’ve decided. We’re keeping the volunteers, but first, a bit of insurance to guarantee your good behaviour.” He lowered his gun and shot two bullets into the floor between Dick and Babs. One of the bullets grazed Dick’s leg, tearing a hole through his jeans and grazing his leg. Bits of tile bit at their legs. As expected, a chorus of screams echoed around the room from adults and children alike. Only, Dick didn’t cry out. Instead, he exhaled sharply and bit back the pain. 

In the confusion, Tim rushed to Dick’s side. Dick forced a grin and put a hand on Tim’s shoulder as he steadied himself. “Guess you were right, our luck was contagious. Go get B.”

“I didn’t mean it...not like this...” As much as he’d griped earlier, Tim never intended to leave Dick and Babs to face trouble alone. 

“I know.” Dick tousled Tim’s hair. “You still owe us ice cream, I only got one bite. Now go. I’m counting on you.” 

“Stay safe,” Tim murmured, stepping away from Dick and catching Steph’s hand.

Babs turned to Steph and mouthed. “Get my dad.” 

Steph nodded and as she brushed past Babs, she pressed the scarf she’d been wearing into Babs’ hands. Still hand-in-hand, Steph and Tim followed the rest of the crowd out of the shop. 

 

They were back at the same booth, this time sitting opposite each other. Their ice cream cones laid abandoned on the table in sticky puddles of green and brown and pink. Dick had used half the napkins in the dispenser to clear the space between them, building a dam with the used napkins to keep the mess from seeping back across the table. 

As he had cleaned the table, she’d wrapped his leg with Stephanie’s scarf. It was far from sterile, but would suffice until they got back to the Cave. His foot rested on the bench next to her, keeping it at least slightly elevated. When she finished wrapping it, she’d propped her elbows along the edge of the table and cradled her head in her hands. She counted footsteps and memorised the patterns of the henchmen’s paces across the shop as they patrolled and waited for their boss. Her mind whirred with plans while she mapped the room. 

Dick’s forearms stuck to the table as he reached across the table to Babs. He cupped his hands around her elbows and closed his eyes. They both listened as Mikey and Simon argued in hushed voices while they stood guard. 

“We should have kept the twins. I have a bad feeling about these two,” Mikey said. He fidgeted while he checked his gun again. 

“Nah. Kids are messy. These two are soft. The boy’s upper crust, he won’t be a problem and when we’re all done we can ransom him back to Daddy for big bucks.” Simon was already counting the money he’d never receive. 

“But the boss...”

“The boss wanted us to take a couple of hostages to give him some breathing room while he meets with his partner. He’ll forget about the hostages once the meeting starts and he’ll expect us to dispose of them. While I’ll kill them if I have to, I’d rather turn a profit.”

Mikey started to rock back and forth on his feet. “Yeah. But, what about the girl, she’s no billionaire...she’s a cop’s kid.” 

“Not just any cop, the _Commissioner_. He’ll do whatever we say as long as we don’t hurt his little princess. See, I gots a plan,” Simon’s voice rose above a whisper as he crowed the last bit. 

“Yeah, yeah. You gots a plan. That’s why the boss put you in charge, you’re always thinking.” Mikey paced away muttering to himself. “You gots a plan, but I still don’t like it.”

Dick nudged Babs’ foot with his good one trying to get her to look up. Though his leg ached and the henchmen outnumbered them, he grinned at her trying to convince her—if not himself—that everything was under control. She didn’t respond. He knew she was spiralling through a series of what ifs and contingency plans. She would be trying to figure out a way to turn the tables in their favour without tipping their hand. He tried again. If Steph was here she’d tease him about playing footsie. Babs didn’t respond, not even to tell him to knock it off. Dick’s grin was replaced by a frown. Surely she wasn’t that deep in thought. Trying again, he nudged her foot back. It skidded across the black and white checkered tiles and bumped against the booth. Finally, she looked up.

“What?” she whispered in a voice scarcely louder than a breath. Her eyes darted around the room looking for the danger.

“Are you okay?” he mouthed. 

A look of confusion flickered across her eyes. “Yes, why?” 

“You were just lost in thought.” He reached across the table to hold her hands. “I’m sorry you ended up here with me. I had to do it, you know. I couldn’t let anyone else take the risk.”

“I know. But, let me ask you this. Who would you rather have here with you? Tim? Steph? One of those kids?” Babs caught his gaze and he couldn’t look away. “We’re dealing with Two-Face. He wouldn’t have been satisfied with one hostage.”

“I know...it’s just....” Dick shook his head. “I would have figured something else out.”

“Richard Grayson, don’t you do this.” Even at a whisper her soft chastisement was enough to make him squirm like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I know you. You think you have to bear the responsibility for everyone around you during a crisis. I’m not your responsibility.”

He gaped at her. “But...”

“I’m your partner, not your responsibility.” Her voice softened as she continued. “You don’t have to bear the weight alone. Let me help you. We’re stronger as a team.”

“You’re right,” he said with a soft release of breath. Partners with Babs. In and out of uniform, they were better together. With her by his side, he’d never be alone and neither would she. As he thought about it, the tension in his shoulders eased and he felt like anything was possible. “Thanks.”

“Don’t you forget it, Boy Wonder. Remember what I told you in Bludhaven. If you go, I go. We’re in this together.” 

“Always.” Despite the circumstances, a small smile flickered across his face. 

Mikey stalked back across the ice cream shop to his brother. “When’s the boss gonna get here?”

Simon shrugged. “Dunno. Boss said hold down the fort ‘til he shows.”

“Fine.” Mikey pulled a chair from a nearby table and sat backwards on it. “Why’d the boss gotta choose someplace so public?”

“’Cause it was the only place that met the requirements. He needs the doubles and his partner likes the cold.” Simon jerked the chair out from under his brother. “And whatchya sitting down on the job for? Go check outside.” 

Babs and Dick exchanged knowing glances over the table. This was the second mention of a partner. One who liked the cold. The Batcomputer databases contained quite a long list of cold related villains, but this was Gotham and it had been a long time since Penguin themed his crimes around the cold. The good odds were on Mr. Freeze. They needed to get out of here before either arrived. 

Babs ran her hand down Dick’s legs, careful to avoid the injury. “I have a plan,” she mouthed when Dick’s attention was on her.

‘What?’ he signed. 

She leaned as far over the table as she could, resting her chin on her crossed arms. Dick followed suit. Now their faces were mere inches from each other. “I need you to pretend to be sick. Nauseous. Can you do that?”

He nodded. “Wouldn’t be my first time. What’s next?”

“When I was in the bathroom earlier, I noticed that there’s a window along the east wall. Open the window.”

Dick raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m not finished.” She pointed up. 

His eyes flicked upward and took in the dropped ceiling. He nodded again, understanding the plan without the need for further explanation. They’d been vigilantes and heroes for a long time. They’d trained together and partnered on more missions than he could count. They relied on each other on and off the field. After all this time, they didn’t necessarily need words to know what the other was thinking. 

“I’ll follow two minutes after you leave. So, make sure everything is ready.”

“Got it.” He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips. “I love you.”

“Love you too.” She observed the room and waited for the patrol pairs to be at their farthest point from the booth. “Action,” she murmured. 

Dick groaned loudly, holding his stomach. He gagged until Simon couldn’t ignore it any longer. As the brute approached the table, Dick moaned and rubbed his arms and shivered. “Babs,” he moaned, “Is it getting hot in here?”

“It’s a freaking ice cream shop, course it’s not hot in here.” Simon slammed his free hand on the table and growled as it stuck to the surface. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ooh.” Dick turned the single syllable into a moan. Babs wasn’t sure how he’d done it, but somehow he managed to appear both feverish and nauseous. “I need to puke.”

“Deal with it.” He peeled his hand away from the table with a sticky shhlick. Wiping his hand on his pants, Simon cursed as his hand came away covered with fine linty particles. 

“No way,” Babs protested, trying to appear at least half as sick as Dick did. “If he pukes, I puke. And I’ll be in no shape to clean it up.”

Simon hesitated. He didn’t want to let the hostage out of his sight, at the same time, he wasn’t going to clean up the mess. “Fine. Restroom, now.” He gestured with his gun at two closest henchmen. “Elias, Mac, stand guard.”

Dick finagled his way out of the booth clutching his stomach and hunched over. He played up his injury as he limped towards the restroom. Elias and Mac followed at a safe distance, in case Dick didn’t make it to the toilets before puking. 

Somehow Dick had managed to convince them that it was in their best interest to wait outside. It’d make things a little difficult for her, but it was better than having them inside. 

Once Dick was inside the restroom, Babs began to count. She wrapped her arms across her gut and rested her forehead on the table. It was disgusting, but it helped play up her own supposed burgeoning nausea. She listened for the patterns to return. There were four on inside patrol, pacing back and forth. Simon hovered nearby, his finger on the trigger of his gun. Two henchmen stood guard of the bathroom door. And Mikey was still outside. 

When she reached 120, Babs waited for the henches to reach the farthest point on their patrols. When everything was set, she moaned loudly and started to gag. She covered her mouth and stumbled out of the booth. Once free from the confines, she dashed for the restroom before anyone could make a move. 

Elias shifted to block her path, but she had years of training that he didn’t. In a move that appeared for all intents and purposes as though she’d tripped, she knocked him to the floor and slipped into the restroom as Mac helped his twin to his feet. 

“Lock the door,” Dick hissed from the ceiling. 

Babs set the bolt and scrambled over to where Dick waited. Using the stall wall, she pulled herself up to the top. Carefully balancing along the narrow ledge, she crawled up into the hole Dick had created by moving the ceiling tiles.

Carefully, they replaced the tiles and listened. There were the repeated thuds of shoulders against the door. It rattled, but didn’t give. 

“Clear away you idiots,” Simon yelled. He fired his gun into the door, emptying his magazine to no avail. “Get someone outside. See if there’s a window.”

“This way.” Dick pointed towards the back of the shop. “Kitchen.” 

Carefully and silently, Dick and Babs crawled across the ceiling. Every few feet they stopped, listened and readjusted their path as necessary. When they reached the far wall, Babs peeled back the ceiling tile and surveyed the room before hopping down onto the counter. Dick followed her down with a wince as he landed on his injured leg. 

“Can you make it?” Babs whispered, holding him a moment before climbing down. “Yes. I’ve had worse.” He reached up to the ceiling and wedged the panel back in place as best he could. “What’s next?” 

“We get outside and decide the best way out from there.” She cracked open the door and checked that the coast was clear.

“Go, I’ll cover you.” Dick waited in the doorway while Babs crept along the back of the building and peered around the corner. She hurried back, gesturing for Dick to join her. 

“They still think we went out through the window.” A smirk tugged at her lips. “They’re trying to climb through the window from the outside to see if we’re still in there.” 

Dick joined in the smirk. None of the henchmen were small and the window would have been a tight squeeze for Dick and Babs if they could have made it at all. “What’s next?”

From around the west corner, Mikey cursed as he stumbled into a series of trash cans. A cat screeched and tore off around the back of the building. 

“Roof,” they said at the same time, studying the distance to the roof of the one story building. 

Babs kneeled and interlaced her fingers making a step for Dick. He stepped onto her hands and pushed off the ground. Babs helped boost him up and he caught the ledge of the roof. Scrambling over the edge, he quickly turned and reached over, returning the favour. Babs jumped and caught his hands. With his help, she climbed over the edge. Safely on top of the roof, they crawled to the center and waited. If they laid down, they wouldn’t be spotted from below. 

They waited for the commotion to die down. Mikey turned along the back of the building finding nothing, except for footprints that he thought nothing of. Eventually Simon made his way outside and yelled at his subordinate half stuck in the window. After what seemed like a short eternity, the henches decided that their missing hostages must still be inside. 

 

Before Barbara or Dick could make it to their feet, a familiar shadow fell over them. It was quickly followed by two more. 

“Took you long enough,” Dick said with a cheeky grin as he accepted a hand up from Batman. 

“Next time, call.” Though he wore the uniform, his voice didn’t hold the complete Batman growl. He helped Babs to her feet. 

Red Robin and Spoiler joined their three comrades in a huddle. Batman placed one hand on Dick’s shoulder and the other on Babs’. “You two did good.” 

Dick gasped in mock surprise. “Wow, a compliment.

Batman scowled, though Dick and Babs could see through it to the concern that had been worrying away at him until he arrived and found them safe. “What’s the situation down there?”

“Eight henchmen. Two-Face sent them as an advance team to set up for a meet between him and a partner,” Babs said, ticking off the facts on her fingers. “They never named the partner, though the mostly likely candidate would be Mr. Freeze, with any other cold related villain as a second guess. Freeze has been out of Blackgate for about a month now.” 

“Good, we can take it from here.” 

“Your Dad will be here shortly,” Spoiler added. “He’s parked down a block and is giving us a chance to take down the goons before heading in.”

“Thanks,” Babs said. “How upset was he?”

“Not nearly as upset as I thought he’d be. You should prolly go see him before heading home.” 

Red Robin held up a hand. “Wait. Were the goons in contact with anyone on the outside?”

“Not as far as we could tell.” Dick leaned against Babs, taking weight off his foot. 

“Then we might be able to use this as a trap. Take down the henchmen before Two-Face arrives, then when he shows up, capture him and his partner.” Red Robin turned to Batman. “What do you think?”

“It’s a plan. Inform Gordon,” Batman said. Red Robin wandered to another part of the roof to call the Commissioner in private.

Dick stretched and winced as he put weight on his leg. Now that the need for action was coming to an end, he was feeling more of the pain. “What do you want us to do?”

“Head on out. You’ve done your part.” Batman handed Babs a line that would make it easier for them to descend. “Make sure he gets to the hospital.”

“It’s not that bad,” Dick shook his head. “We can wrap it up at the cave.” 

“No. That’s not the point.” Batman gestured at the brightly coloured scarf tied around his leg. “Too many witnesses saw civilian Dick Grayson get shot. If you don’t go to the hospital people will start asking question, particularly as the reporters get a hold of this story.”

Dick sighed heavily, but didn’t put up any more protests. 

Babs adjusted her stance so he could lean more easily against her. “We really out to find my dad and he’ll insist that your leg gets examined.”

“Spoiler get Red Robin,” Batman said. “I want you to sneak in through the back. Silently take out anyone in the kitchen. I’ll go through the front and we’ll meet in the middle.”

“Yes, Captain, my captain.” Spoiler winked and headed to Red Robin. 

Alone with his first two protégés, Batman resisted the urge to give into Bruce Wayne’s relief that they were okay. Instead he managed a weak smiled. “Wait until you hear the commotion die down, then get out of here.”

“We can do that,” Babs said. “Be safe.” 

Batman nodded. Before disappearing off the side of the building, he turned to Dick. “One last thing. I thought I told you to avoid the villains on your dates.”

Dick shrugged. “I tried. They won’t stay away from me.” 

Babs was almost certain she heard Batman laugh as he leapt off the building. When they were the only two left on the roof and the chaos started below, she wrapped her arms around Dick and lifted her face. “I’ve been wanting to do this since you smooshed ice cream on my face.”

“Oh. And what’s that?” He grinned. A few minutes alone with the woman he loved, that’s exactly what he needed. 

“This.” She gave him a kiss that took his breath away. 

 

 


	5. Act V - Home

“I’m not leaving,” Babs said as she stood in the doorway of Dick’s bedroom at the Manor. 

Dick leaned against the open door with a towel in hand. He’d been in the middle of drying his hair when she’d knocked. She’d arrived early. “All right. I suppose we should let Alfred know you’re moving in.” 

“No. That’s not it.” Babs all but her rolled eyes. “We’re going to have our date here. Dinner, movie, ice cream, whatever. I’m not leaving until we have a date that doesn’t end in a fight with supervillains.”  
“They weren’t all supervillains.” He headed back into his room and dug through his closet until he found a Haly’s Circus sweatshirt. 

While he finished dressing, Babs sat on his bed and massaged her legs. She watched appreciatively as Dick slipped on a t-shirt then the sweatshirt. He joined her on the bed, peppering quick kisses along her collarbone and around the back of her neck. She hummed as she brushed her hair to the side and rotated her neck to make it easier for him to keep kissing. 

When he reached the other side of her neck, he rested his chin on her shoulder. “While I could keep at this all night, I think you must have something else in mind.” 

“I don’t know.” She stifled a yawn and leaned back against Dick. “I just want to spend the evening with you without all the drama.”

“I know the feeling.” He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back onto the bed with him. She could feel the steady thud of his heartbeat as her head rested against his chest. 

It’d been a week that felt like an eternity since he’d seen her in person, since he last touched her. “You look exhausted. Have you been sleeping?”

“You say the sweetest things.” Her words dripped with the familiar snark, that he missed when they were separated. Still, she couldn’t deny the fact he had a point. “Between work and Batgirl-ing, I haven’t had a lot of time to research those Wayne Enterprises crates we found in the warehouse. I suppose I’ve been cutting into my sleep time to work on the research.” 

“Have you told Bruce about this? Surely he could help...”

“I mentioned it in my report, but he hasn’t asked about it. Besides what can he do that I can’t? He’s as busy as I am. He’d end up asking Tim to help research, which wouldn’t be any better. Tim has school and patrol too.”

Dick combed his fingers through her hair. This wasn’t the first time she’d mentioned research or maintaining information on their rogues. A thought niggled at the back of his brain. “I’ve been meaning to ask. From our conversations, I’ve been getting the impression that you’re still Oracle. Maybe not in name, but you’re still carrying on all her behind-the-scene responsibilities. Am I right?”

She laid still for a long moment that Dick wondered if she’d fallen asleep. Just as he was about to scootch out from under her and let her rest, she spoke. “Yes. Though, not for the whole community, just the family. Someone needs to.” 

His fingers stilled in her hair while thought about what it meant that she was juggling two secret identities while carrying on a successful civilian career. She was not only burning the candle at both ends, she’d lit it in the middle as well. “How can I help?”

“You really want to help?” Babs rolled over so she was lying on her side with her head propped against her hand. She wasn’t used to people offering—wanting—to help. Usually everyone simply expected the information to appear, the call to be answered, and if she wasn’t prepared, things fell apart. The others never thought about what it took to maintain their secrets and databases and technology. Even after she ‘killed’ Oracle, after she reclaimed the mantle of Batgirl, she’d continued her duties as Oracle for the family because she’d been Oracle for so long they’d become dependent on her. She couldn’t let them down. 

“Of course. Like you said we’re partners. We help each other. We’re better together. I know I don’t have even half your tech savvy, but I’m willing to help, willing to learn. I’m all yours, Dominoed Daredoll.”

“I haven’t heard that one in ages. The papers love their alliteration.” Babs laughed and cuddled up next to him. He wrapped his arm around her while she rested her head on his shoulder. “And, thanks. Over the years I’ve gotten so used to doing things on my own, I forget it’s okay to ask for help.”

“Me too.” He ran his fingers along the small of her back. “You keep reminding me and I’ll keep reminding you.”

“It’s a deal.” She sealed the promise with a kiss. 

As the kiss ended, he leaned back into the mattress and closed his eyes. 

She poked him in the ticklish spot on his side. He squirmed away. “Don’t you fall asleep on me.” 

Pushing himself up, Dick leaned back on his elbows. “You know, if you want to cancel our date tonight and get some rest, I understand.”

“No.” She sat up beside him as she stifled another yawn. “You need to head back to Blüdhaven tomorrow, don’t you?” 

He nodded. “I can stick around for breakfast, but I really ought to head back after that.”

“I already don’t get to see you nearly enough, so I’m not wasting this opportunity by sleeping.” 

“We talk every day. Every night too.” 

“It’s not the same.” She ran a finger along his jaw line like she was memorising the contours of his face. “How about some coffee and a movie?”

Dick caught her hand and kissed it. He didn’t let go as he stood. “That I can manage. Let’s hit the kitchen. I know where Alfred hides the good coffee from Tim.”

 

With coffee mugs in hand, Dick and Babs turned into the den only to find it already occupied. Damian sat on the couch with his sketchpad propped against his knees. The skritch of charcoal drawn against paper was the only sound in the room. His hood was pulled up and he had his ear buds in. Since no one had a clue what Damian listened to, Dick hypothesised that he didn’t actually listen to anything. Instead he used the headphones as an unsubtle clue that he wanted to be left alone.

Dick tugged on the back of Damian’s hood. The boy’s hand darted back and grasped Dick’s, twisting it in a wristlock. His charcoal stained fingers left smudged fingerprints on his big brother’s sweatshirt. 

Damian released the lock the moment he recognised Dick’s grunt of pain. He yanked the ear buds out of his ears and half turned on the couch to better see Dick and Babs. He recognised the sweatshirt that he’d stained.

“Sorry,” he muttered almost too quiet to hear. 

“Skay. It’s been through worse.” Dick vaulted over the couch without spilling a drop of coffee and settled in beside his brother. “We were thinking about watching a movie. Do you mind?”

He shrugged. “I don’t care. Do you want me to leave?”

Babs took the conventional way around the couch. There was no lack of blankets this evening. She grabbed one and snuggled in besides Dick. 

“You can stay if you want,” she said. Of the three of them, Damian was the only one who actually lived at the Manor, so technically he had more right to the den than either of them. “What are you drawing?”

Pulling his sketchpad closer so the others couldn’t see his progress, he used his fingers to blend and shade. “It’s not finished yet.” 

“Will you show me when you’re finished?” Dick didn’t try to peer over the edge of the sketchpad or sneak a peek. 

“We’ll see.” Damian shrugged. “What are you planning to watch?” 

“Dunno. Do you have any preferences?”

“I don’t care.” Damian turned his sketchpad to work at a different angle without dragging his hand through the charcoal. 

Babs leaned forward so she could see Damian around Dick. “Have you seen _Princess Bride_ yet?”

“No.” Damian pursed his lips in a look of pure skepticism. “What is it?”

“That won’t do. I can’t believe we’ve been so negligent in your education.” Dick leapt off the couch and the crossed the room to the cabinet that stored a partial collection of the family’s DVDs and BluRays. “It’s your kind of movie. It’s a story of revenge and torture, sword fighting and treachery.”

“Don’t forget about the true love,” Babs added. 

“That goes without saying.” Dick put the BluRay into the player and returned to the couch. He leaned in towards Babs. “And it is most definitely a kissing movie.”

“Tt.” Damian turned down the lights. “Quiet. The movie is starting.” 

 

By the time the closing credits rolled across the screen, Damian had set aside his drawings and relaxed into the couch. He was making a serious effort to keep his customary scowl on his face, though he wasn’t doing much in the way of succeeding. A grin kept tugging at his lips as he recalled the myriad of quotable lines. Babs wondered if the boy realised how much he relaxed his guard around Dick. He’d leaned against Dick’s arm and didn’t seem to mind as Babs stretched her legs out across Dick’s lap. 

At some point during the movie, Cass had joined them silent and unannounced. She’d found an unobtrusive spot on the floor and curled up in a nest of the remaining blankets. Her eyes were riveted on the screen as she followed along with the story. From time to time when the dialogue was particularly quick, she would silently mouth the lines a second after they were said while she worked them out. As the movie ended, she also grinned, though unlike Damian she didn’t try to hide it. 

“Aww, we missed it.” Steph said as she turned into the den followed by Tim. She carried a large bowl of popcorn and Tim managed their mugs of coffee. 

“What are you doing here?” Tim asked. “I thought the two of you were on a date?”

“Change of plans,” Dick said. “We decided a night in was a better option.” 

“You might have a point there.” Steph settled into the other couch and handed the popcorn bowl over Damian to Dick. “Want some?”

Taking a seat beside Steph, Tim placed their coffees on the nearby endtable. “We told Alfred this afternoon that we wanted to use the den. He assured us that no one would be home. We were planning to catch up on the last series of Doctor Who.” 

“Sorry.” Babs grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl. “We didn’t know. Alfred wasn’t here when I arrived.” 

“Pennyworth needed to go grocery shopping,” Damian supplied in an imperious tone. He grabbed his sketchbook and returned to his drawing. “I told Grayson that he and Gordon could use the den.” 

Tim bristled at Damian’s attitude. A biting retort perched on the tip of his tongue, ready to spill out into a new argument between the brothers. “And why are you here? Grounded again?”

Damian hissed. He gripped his charcoal and broke it.

Cass curled in on herself and pulled a blanket over her head. She covered her ears with her hands. Steph sighed loudly and joined Cass on the floor, taking the bowl of popcorn with her. Babs pinched the bridge of her nose. Was it really too much to ask for one quiet night?

“Damian,” Dick said in a tone that held a warning. He placed a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder, stilling him. Damian glowered at Tim, but didn’t further antagonise his brother. A cajoling glance from Dick quelled any last remarks from Tim.

“I’m sorry we messed up your plans,” Dick said. “Babs and I can find something else to do.” 

“No,” Steph said. “Stay. Doctor Who can wait. The new season isn’t starting for a bit yet so we have plenty of time to catch up.” 

“We were considering watching _Much Ado_ , what if we downloaded the David Tennant/Catherine Tate version? Would that suffice?” Babs scrolled through the menus to the proper site.

Tim shrugged; his own plans were already disrupted. “If it’s okay with Steph, it’s fine with me. She’s right, we can always catch up on the Doctor later.”

Steph grinned. “Count me in. Who doesn’t love David Tennant in uniform?”

Damian dug the end of his broken charcoal into the page. “Stay.”

“We will.” Babs began the download for the play. Part of her was glad that they didn’t need to go elsewhere while another part wondered how many more were going to join their date night. 

 

On the screen, Claudio mourned at the grave of the supposedly dead Hero; while in the Manor, Jason wandered the abandoned hallways. 

“Where the frick is everyone?” he shouted, his voice echoing down the hallways.

Babs jumped at the sudden interruption. She wasn’t the only one taken unawares. Steph let out a small squeal and Dick clutched a hand to his heart playing up the drama. Only Cass and Damian managed to hide their surprise under their stoic demeanours. 

Dick paused the play and leaned back on the couch, hanging his head over the edge. “In the den,” he yelled loud enough to be heard. “Join us!”

“I forgot I promised Jason some information.” Dick drummed his fingers on Babs’ knee. “I was going to leave it in the Cave before we headed out.” 

“But, when we didn’t leave, you forgot about the file.”

“Exactly.” 

Jason sauntered into the den with his helmet tucked under one arm. He was already dressed for patrol even though it wasn’t quite dark yet. 

“Dickiebird, where the infor...” His words trailed off and the storm in his eyes intensified as he realised that everyone had gathered there but him. “What’s this, movie night? Did my invite get lost in the mail?”  
“It really was more of an impromptu thing. It started out as a date night, then somehow it became....” Dick made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the entire room. “....this.”

“Jason, please, join us.” Babs gave him a smile that made him think she honestly wanted him to be part of the group. 

He waited for any of the others to protest, to baulk at the idea of his presence. No one did. It appeared once the Golden Boy and the Librarian spoke, no one was going to oppose them. 

“Fine,” he muttered and threw himself down into the nearest unoccupied chair. He crossed his arms over his chest and stretched out his legs, taking up as much space as possible. Cass, the one nearest to where he sat, unfolded from her blanket nest and stretched out her legs. She placed her feet on top of his and grinned up at him, challenging him as he was trying to challenge the others. He nodded, acknowledging her. He didn’t move and neither did she.

“Let’s finish the movie. I’m starving.” Tim’s arm was casually draped around Steph as she leaned against him. 

Dick raised an eyebrow at Babs. She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him, before pressing play. 

 

As Bruce made his way down the cavernous hallways of the Manor, he tried to stifle the burgeoning loneliness. The day in the office had been long and every moment there meant keeping part of himself hidden. Certainly the deception had become easier over the years, but it left him feeling disconnected from just about everyone he interacted with, except for his family. And most of them were gone these days. All but Damian had homes elsewhere in the city. They came and went from the Manor as it was convenient for them. He didn’t mind, not really. That’s the way it was supposed to be. Still...if it wasn’t for the caves below, there were times the Manor felt too big. 

Lost in thought and wondering if he’d see anyone before patrol, Bruce stopped in his tracks at the noise coming from the dining room. This evening, the Manor was anything but abandoned. Turning into the dining room he found all his children plus Stephanie and Barbara gathered around one end of the massive table playing a game— _7 Wonders_ , if the empty box was any indication. Alfred sat nearby, occasionally commenting on the game’s progress while he worked on a crossword puzzle. 

Damian was the first to notice him. Instead of the scowl and silent treatment Bruce had been expecting, Damian offered him one of his rare grins and waved Bruce over. “Father, join us. I’m winning.” 

“Not on your life, Dem—brat.” Jason’s shoulders tightened. He didn’t look up from his cards as he selected one then passed the last two cards to Babs. 

Dick turned in his seat and grinned cheerfully at Bruce. “We’re on the last round. Give us a moment to figure out the score.”  
Bruce took a seat beside Tim. “Take your time. I need to head out soon.” 

“I will bring your dinner.” Before Bruce could protest, Alfred pushed himself away from the table and headed for the kitchen. 

Bruce watched as the kids finished the game and started calculating the score. Babs and Tim had already calculated their victory points and were mentally checking the others’ math. Dick twisted a lock of Barbara’s hair around his fingers and Steph kept up a constant stream of chatter trying to distract Tim as he added her points. Jason leaned back on the back two legs of his chair and tapped an unlit cigarette against the table in a rapid nervous tic. 

“I won,” Cass said as she finished totalling her score and comparing it to the others. Damian had come in second with Dick trailing in seventh place. From the easy grin on Dick’s face, Bruce assumed that Dick had purposely thrown the game. With Babs in sixth place, it wouldn’t surprise him if she’d done the same.  

Tim and Dick started sorting the cards while Cass and Steph stacked the cardboard tokens into leaning towers. Jason appeared like it was taking a considerable effort not to rush from the room. The only thing that kept him from fleeing was Barbara asking him about a book they’d both recently read. Bruce had also read the book, but before he could join the conversation, Alfred returned with Bruce’s dinner.

“Thank you, Alfred,” Bruce said. The moment Bruce spoke, the book conversation came to an end, closing off the possibility for him to join. 

Only then did it occur to Bruce that having them all here was not only unexpected, but a little odd. Jason rarely came up to the Manor, preferring to stay in the Cave if he came at all. He wasn’t certain the last time he’d seen Jason interacting with the others in a matter that wasn’t mission related. And then there was Dick. He vaguely recalled Dick saying he’d be in town for the evening, though he was certain it wasn’t Nightwing related. Which meant a date with Babs. If that was the case why were they all here in his dining room? 

“Bruce,” Dick said trying to get his attention, apparently not for the first time. 

“Yes?” 

“I was wondering if you wanted to join in on a game. I think we have one here that allows for eight players, nine if Alfred wants to join.” Dick pulled the _Resistance_ box from the stack of games. 

“I appreciate the offer, though I prefer to observe. My puzzle is keeping me quite occupied.” Alfred tapped on the crossword with his pen. 

“Sure.” Dick started to shuffle the cards. “Bruce, want us to deal you in?” 

Bruce checked the time. He really ought to be leaving for patrol. “I thought you were going out tonight. Why are you here?”

Babs poured coffee into her mug. “I thought we might have a night in.”

“And everyone just kind of showed up,” Steph added. 

Damian looked at his father. “I never left.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. Bruce set down his silverware and pushed away his half finished plate. “Come on, Damian. It’s time for patrol.” 

“Really?” Damian scrambled to his feet. “I thought I was grounded.” 

Bruce hesitated a half second too long as his eyes flickered over to Dick and Babs. “Let’s see you how you listen tonight and we’ll reconsider your grounding.” 

The boy grinned. “Yes, Father.” 

“I will join you.” Cass excused herself from the table in a much calmer manner, then raced Damian out of the room. 

“Hey Tim.” Steph stood and stretched, reaching for the ceiling with interlocked fingers. “Do you want to spar for a bit? I can’t stay too long ‘cause I promised mom I’d spend the night.” 

Tim hesitated for a moment. “Yeah sure, though I have something to do first. Meet you downstairs.” 

With Steph and Tim disappearing in opposite directions, Alfred also took his leave, clearing the remaining dishes as he left. Bruce stood and smiled at Dick and Babs. “Enjoy your evening.” 

Babs covered a yawn with her hand and took another sip of her coffee. “Thanks. We’ll try. Keep the city safe.” 

He paused. Jason was still at the table. “Jason....it is good to see you.” He hated how stilted his words sounded to his ears. “Will I see you on patrol tonight?”

Jason shrugged. His face didn’t betray what he might be thinking. “It’s a big city.”

“All right. Take care of yourself.” 

“You too,” Jason said in a soft muffled voice that Bruce almost missed as he followed the others to the Cave. 

Tim reappeared from the kitchen with two bowls. “Here’s your ice cream, as promised.” 

“Thanks, Timmy.” Dick dug his spoon into the generous scoops of ice cream topped with whipped cream, hot fudge, cherries and lots of sprinkles.

“Just, you know, don’t get yourselves captured or anything.” Tim tapped Jason on the shoulder. “We should head on out.” 

Jason frowned. “Wait. If you two were suppose to be on a date, why the heck did you invite me to stay?”

“By the time you arrived, it wasn’t so much of a date anymore.” Babs pushed the ice cream around in her bowl. “And, if it was going to be a family night, well, you’re family.”

“Hmmph.” He stood and lightly cuffed the back of Dicks’ head. “Where’s the information, Dickie? Once I get it, I’ll be out of your hair.”

“On the nightstand in my room.” Dick made to stand. “I’ll go get it.”  
“Nah, stay. I know where to find your room. Next time, lovebirds, tell us when you want to be alone.” Jason waved as he headed from the room with Tim in tow. 

Dick held Babs’ hand. “We should move before anyone changes their mind.” 

 

Finding a quiet spot on the roof, they watched the stars fight valiantly to be seen through the cloud cover and light pollution. They sat in companionable silence, with no need to discuss the past or the future, only to revel in the present moment and each other’s presence. Babs rested her head on Dick’s shoulder while he lightly ran his hand across her back. 

Dick stared out into the distance towards Gotham. He couldn’t see it from here, but he could feel it drawing him like a homing beacon. She felt it too. “Do you ever regret becoming involved with me? With us?” 

“No.” She didn’t hesitate, giving her answer as he scarcely finished his question. “I couldn’t imagine my life any other way. I wouldn’t trade it for the world.” 

“Me either.” He breathed deeply, allowing himself to relax against Babs. “I’m sorry tonight didn’t turn out as planned.” 

“I’m not.” 

“Why? My siblings completely interrupted our time together. I think we spent as much time mediating between them as we spent with each other.”

“Dick, it’s okay. They’re your family. You don’t need to apologise for them.”

“You know, they—we—have more than our share of issues. They need me.”

“Whose family doesn’t have issues? Mine’s not exactly Ozzie and Harriet either.” She took his hands in both of hers and ran her thumbs over his palms and fingers. They were strong and calloused from years of work and training. “I’ve always known being part of your life, meant being part of theirs as well. It’s been this way ever since your family was just you and Bruce and Alfred. I love your family like they’re my own.” 

Of everyone he’d known since Bruce took him in, she was the only one who never needed him to explain his family, to justify their behaviour. In all but name, she was already part of the family. She knew what it meant to be a hero in Gotham.

She trained under Bruce’s gruelling perfectionist demands. As Batgirl, she fought beside them. As Oracle, her eyes and ears were everywhere gathering the data that helped them succeed. With each subsequent Robin and Batgirl, she watched and guided and trained. She mourned the deaths that did not hold and never gave up hope. When Gotham tried to knock her down, she came back stronger. As Barbara, as Batgirl, as Oracle—she always challenged everyone around her to be their better selves. Always believed it was possible. 

“You are amazing, Barbara Gordon.” He held her close not wanting to be separated, not wanting the evening to end. “Do you think it will always be like this?”  
Babs leaned into him. “Like what? You and me, taking on the world together. I hope so.” 

“Good. Me too.” 

He kissed her, communicating everything he felt for her through his touch. She responded in kind. They knew without a doubt, no matter what might happen next, their hearts and futures were bound together. 

 

 

“Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably.” 

~Benedick, _Much Ado About Nothing_ , Act V, scene ii

 


End file.
